The Me Inside of Me

I know there's a me in side me.

He's the real me.

But me...

im not me. He is.

Inside the void waiting.

Ever turning.

ever growing.

Glowing.

He sits in meditation, eyes closed yet seeing all things.

He's a poet. He's a prophet.  

His eyes are portals into the infinite.

When you look into his eyes.. you know that he knows that you knows he knows.

Yet he knows that he nows nothing.

Nothing knows him too.

yet when he looks upon nothing he sees something.

No. He sees everything.

He looks through his eyes not with them.

He can look at a single drop of water and see an ocean. Yet look at a single teardrop and see a lake of fire.

He paints pictures with his words so vivid you can hang them on your wall. on your heart.

He speaks to me. Yet i can hardly hear him sometimes. But when i have
him with me. He speaks to me in parables. In poems. And i give them to
you.

He wants to take over. And want to let him. But ill have to get past me. To get to the me inside of me. And set him free.